tell me you love me (cedric and draco)

thirty three

What should I do now?

I wake up with the air from outside blowing onto my face. I let out a little hum, my eyes still closed, breathing in the fresh air and thinking of the mornings of waking up in Cedric's dorm with him by my side. This makes me open my eyes, the sunlight already coming through the window.

I squint my eyes shut again, the amount of light surprising me. I slowly move my arms- stopping, remembering my arm- wanting to stretch. My limbs felt like jelly, like someone had reached inside me and mixed my insides with a spoon.

I turn over, looking for any sort of indication of the time. The sun is up, but not too bright, so it can't be too late. I don't want to miss the wedding. Or the setting up of it.

I get out of the bed, slowly, feeling the ache of my arm. It was wrapped into a sling, the knot pressing into the back of my neck. I was curious to see what my arm looked like, so, knowing I shouldn't, I slowly move my arm into position to untie the cloth that Mrs. Weasley had applied only a few mere hours ago.

Bloody hell.

It looks... weird. My skin is still smooth, except for a long, jagged line as to where I was hit with magic. It starts near the top of my shoulder and moves down towards my armpit. Currently, it's a bright pink and red, but I know it will fade to something darker, similar to Harry's scar.

The door suddenly bursts open, and in walks Fred. I scramble to pull the cloth back onto my arm before he sees, but of course he does.

He stops in his tracks, his eyes glued to my arm.

"How's George?" I ask meekly, trying to divert his gaze to anything but my arm. His jaw grinds, and I pull the cloth tighter to my arm, covering it more. "Fred?"

"I told you not to get hurt," he says quietly, pathetically even. "It was dangerous for you to go out there, and I knew that-"

"Everyone else was going. Everyone. How would it be fair that I couldn't? I don't even see why you're this concerned," I scoff, turning my back to him so he can't see the blush creeping up my neck. I busy my hands with the pillows on my bed, just so they have something to do while I think.

"Why- why I'm so concerned? Everyone's concerned about you, Lauren!"

I turn back around, throwing my hands up, exasperated. "What about George? His ear was cut off, and I've only got a little cut on my arm! If you want someone to be concerned about, be concerned about your twin."

"This is different," Fred seethes quietly, his eyes hard.

I scoff. "Hardly."

"Oh?" He remarks, blowing out a puff of air. "We're not just friends here, Lauren." The look on his face is intense. His eyes are squinted, fierce beneath his eyelashes. His freckles are squished on his face as his nose scrunches, his jaw hard.

"But we are!" I insist, flinging my hands to my side, walking closer to him. "We are not together, Fred. We're friends, really good friends, just like I'm friends with Ro-"

"Don't." He grinds his jaw, now adverting my gaze.

I blow a breath out of my nose, my eyes darting around his face. "Okay, not like I'm friends with Ron," I say quietly. "But you're also not Cedric."

"I know that," he insists, looking up at me, "and I'm not trying to be."

I sighed. I really appreciated his words, and I couldn't help but feel terrible. I'd led him on. This was entirely my doing, and I hadn't done anything to stop it. Had I really tried to use Fred as a distraction? To get over Cedric faster?

"I'm sorry," I whisper, shaking my head. "I'm really, really-"

A sigh from Fred cuts me off. He walks over and presses me to his chest, his hands lightly guiding my head under his chin. "You don't need to apologize."

"But I do," I mumble into his chest, my voice muffled by his shirt.

"You told me, that night in the bathroom, that you weren't ready for something."

I swallowed.

"Also," he hesitates.

"Also?"

"You received an owl, earlier this morning. That's why I came in here." He pulls away from me, still leaving his hands on the tops of my shoulders.

I can't think of anyone the letter might be from. I had cut off contact with almost everyone at Hogwarts, save for a few. "From my parents?" I ask, remembering how I haven't spoken to them in quite some time. A twinge of guilt makes its way through me.

"Er- not exactly." He removes his hands from my shoulders completely, reaching into his back pocket. "Here," he says, handing me the letter, avoiding eye contact with me.

Confused, I grab the letter and see why he was so hesitant, why he seemed so stand offish- he thought I was lying to him.

The letter had no indication of who sent it, but I knew.

The letter was addressed to me.

But it said only one thing on the envelope:

to my love, lolo

Draco Malfoy.